


big.

by drfrcts



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Depression, F/M, Post-Episode: s06e19 I Am My Monster, Pre-Episode: s06e20 The Future, Steven Universe Needs Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:54:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23924938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drfrcts/pseuds/drfrcts
Summary: "Did he have to be something big to deserve anyone?"Connie comes over for a short visit to check up on Steven, who still struggles to cope with his lack of direction and meaning.
Relationships: Connie Maheswaran/Steven Universe
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	big.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is the first fanfic I've ever written, so please do give comments below if you can!
> 
> Also: The whole story is written in first person, in Steven's POV. Enjoy!

* * *

I found myself sitting on a wide bed, facing a sliding glass door and the sky outside. It was getting dimmer and dimmer by the minute, the sky casting out its lively blue and cyan hues for darker, deeper oranges and reds.

The seashore was just outside the balcony, the waves crashing on the peach-colored sand, ever so regular, repetitive, unchanging.

But it _was_ a soothing sight, at least. The repetitiveness of tiny waves and sea foam was beautiful in its lack of change.

The room was filled with mementos of what was. There was a cluster of picture frames, all neatly standing atop a cabinet that stood to roughly my shoulder height. The photos would be crisp, pristine inside faux wooden frames, documenting in vivid printer ink memories upon memories I’ve had with my family. Some of them even traced back to my childhood, when things were simple.

There were also mugs from Christmases of poor gifting ideas – some of which misspelled my name, but it was no big deal. Most of them were unused, still wrapped in plastic and silvery wire and dusting on a shelf in a barely visible, remote corner. ( _At least my unused ukelele had some company._ )

One of those mugs, though, was where I had a mini-statue standing. That mug would be on a shelf, recessed into the wall just behind the headboard of my bed, stashed along with some figures and unused throw pillows and books I’d read back when I was younger.

I reached for the last mug, which was on a small table by the bed. That mug was where I would make my favorite hot chocolate. No, not coffee – hot choco was all my taste buds ever needed then. I took a sip, and took a deep breath after.

I’d then place the mug down, and reach for the phone next to me. It had lain there, neglected, unused. It _was_ unusual times – that phone would have been handling pages upon pages of schedules, plans, and text messages.

But there would be _no more schedules, no more plans_. Text messages wouldn’t pour in as often as they did. Then again, a phone could only be as active as the person using it.

_Did I count as active? No? Figured that much._

There would be one new message, asking, “Hey, can I come over? Pearl said they’d be out for a bit. I’m done studying anyway.”

I didn’t know how to respond – I would love company, but my state wouldn't be so conducive for company of _any_ sort. But I’d never say no to this person. This person was one I trusted my entire life with – one who’s stuck with me through the hardest of problems, from the corrupted gems on Earth and dismantling the Gem empire on Homeworld.

(Not to mention it was _Pearl’s_ request. _Did I really have a choice?_ )

And I picked up the phone, and typed away with a sigh, “Yeah, I’d love to.”

“Okay, see you in around thirty minutes! Love you.”

“Love you too,” I typed back, before I sank back into the comforter. I felt a heavy weight on me, pressing down all over my tensed muscles, and I felt the cloth swallow my body whole.

When I stared up, I saw long, drawn-out shadows of the ceiling fan that spun lazily above me, amidst the equally drawn-out beam of orange sunshine that peered through the small windows near the ceiling. The smell of chocolate would linger in my nose. My fingers would feel the comforters give way under the weight. The sound of waves poured in from outside. _Stars, it’d be easy to notice everything if you’re doing nothing._

I heaved out a groan – one, long, miserable groan. _Could I just go back to how things were? Back when I was a kid?_ It was easy to be just a happy-go-lucky kid, rapping to Cookie Cat and playing video games with Amethyst or going to the Big Donut.

Or maybe back to when I was actually _helpful_ to people. Championing peace across the galaxy, fixing people’s problems. Being sixteen, meaningless, and directionless _wasn’t easy._

_Thank the stars_ , the gems weren’t in the house yet to hear a miserable person be even _more_ miserable with himself. It would’ve been pitiful, to say the least. _(And I was, wasn’t I?)_

* * *

  
  


It took maybe a few more minutes of staring at the shifting shapes above me, before I heard the faint click of a doorknob. _She’s here._

I heard steps draw closer and closer to me. The sound of rubber-soled sneakers and wood panel was something I’d be all too familiar with. I tried easing my thoughts a little – I couldn’t be looking like I was terrified to have her over.

It was difficult, though. She _might’ve_ come here on her own whim, but that was because she _thought_ I’d be needing _her care_ . _Her comfort_ . Especially after that fateful day – _no, none of them_ could ever truly keep their eyes off of me since that meltdown a few months before. Not _her_ , not _my dad_ , not _the gems_. 

I couldn’t deny that I’d need care, but it only furthered the thought. 

_Pathetic._

_Broken._

_Useless._

I guess the neglected phone schedules, the forgotten notebooks, and the fresh stack of unused sticky notes all agreed. Even the abandoned ukelele, or the plate on my bedside table that I never noticed was still there. _Useless_ – as useless as those objects sitting to collect dust.

I didn’t notice her already sitting on the bed, right beside where I lay, with her smaller fingers resting against mine. She had a smile that’d always bring me cheer, that’d always make my heart pound faster.

I’d want to show her the best side of me, and give her the widest, happiest smile I could give her. After all of this – after the trouble of having to look after me – she’d deserve nothing less. However, my insides protested. I could feel myself freeze as the thought of burying my free-flowing troubles proved to be harder than it seemed. _I can’t lie about this anymore._

I could only muster a half-grin. I felt bad for giving such a half-assed attempt.

“How are you?” she asked me, as their face – eyes dashed with concern, yet still had the lively sheen that mine would seem to lack – droned over mine. I would’ve choked on an answer.

_Yeah, how was I?_ I didn’t _want_ to be honest – not unless I wanted to have her worry even more than she already ( _unnecessarily_ ) would have. Not unless I wanted to say outright just how _broken_ I was.

She would’ve been studying, preparing for college, preparing for her future life as the _President of the United States_ if not for me. _Burden._

“I--I don’t know,” I stuttered, struggling to find the words to my complicated thoughts in my wrecked-up excuse of a brain. “I guess I’m fine?” I tried chuckling it off, but even then it sounded forced.

“You honestly don’t sound like it.” I could sense the distress in her eyes after the words left her mouth. _Way to go, me, good job!_

She leaned back a bit, sitting up on the edge of the bed as I slid up to the pillows to pull my weighted body off of the mattress and sit. I tucked in my legs closer to my body, and wrapped my arms around my pajama-covered knees. She took her hand and held one of mine.

“You know you could tell me anything, right? I won’t judge,” she said, gently, as she peered into my eyes. I grew tense as the thoughts intensified, and those few seconds of silence became a blur. It took another touch from her to get me out of the trance, yet my first reaction was to flinch.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you–”

“No, no, no, it’s fine--it’s my fault.” I looked away as soon as I finished, and dug my face into my knees, not wanting to see how she would react. Not wanting to see just how much I’m scaring her.

_God, how awful was I to start scaring people just like that? Oh right, I already did before._

She crept closer to me, and rested her arm on my hair. I could feel her fingers go through the locks, as she pressed on them lightly. It was silent, but there was that sense of comfort I couldn’t resist. I chuckled, softly. _I didn’t deserve her at all._

I raised my head above my knees, as my voice quivered. “Why me?”

“Huh?” she said, confusion written all over her face. I only laughed a bit more, before the laugh turned into a long groan – one that seemed to worry her even more.

_She shouldn’t be wasting her time worrying about me._

_No one should be wasting their time on me._

_I’m such a drag-down, aren’t I?_

“Hey, seriously, does something hurt–”

“--no, nothing hurts,” I groaned. I was laughing, somewhat hysterically, without an idea of what I was trying to do. _Was I really just laughing it off so she’d laugh it off too? Was I mocking myself through it?_

“You know you could tell me what’s going on.”

The laughs slowly turned into sniffles and soft sobs as the thoughts went on. “I--I don’t know, but–-I’m not--things aren’t–”

I sighed. “Things just--everything just... feels bad now. It--it hurts me. A lot.”

She looked at me intently as I painfully coughed out the words. “I--I’m not supposed make you feel like this. I--I don’t want to--I’m such a mess--wh--why stay?” As soon as I finished, she grasped my hands with her own.

A tear ran down her cheek. “Because you’re my best friend. Because you’ve taken care of me and so many other people. You _deserve_ to heal, and you _deserve_ to heal with the people who care about you.”

“But… you’re all doing great now. You’re all moving on with your lives. I don’t want to hold you back,” I mumbled. I stared at my toes – _in shame? In guilt? Probably both._ “any more than I already have.”

“You’re not holding us back, silly! This is my choice – our choice. We’re going to take care of you the same way you take care of us, _remember?_ ”

“Yeah, I remember.” I wanted to make the mood a bit lighter for the both of us. “I was all big and scary then,” I said as I pulled my hands above me, gesturing something big and scary as she smiled from the goofiness of it.

Though, _big and scary… monster? Sounds about right._

The memory shook me – I could feel my breath escaping, my eyes freezing in an expression of horror. Breathing shallow, sweat dripping down, I tucked myself into my knees again. I could feel tremors running across my body.

I could feel the blood rush into my head. As if my head were to explode.

_You have a lot to make up for, but you’re just sitting on that bed._

_What a pathetic excuse of a person, huh?_

_Savior of the galaxy! Can’t even get out of bed and do something useful._

_God, you were much better when you were a kid._

Out of the blue, I felt an arm rest above my shrunken back. It was light, thin, and it barely made a dent. It was warm, though. _Warm and soft._

“I just feel so--I don’t know, small? Helpless? I used to help people, fix everyone’s problems.” I swallowed a lump in my throat. “Now, I’m just--a useless sack of dirt?”

I could feel her sigh right beside me, her warm breath blowing over my shirt. I could only imagine her trying to think of what to say – _that’s what she usually did. Try to cheer me up. Try to ease my pains, even just a little bit._

_Why was she staying with me?_ I still couldn’t understand – _I’m nothing now._

“Sometimes I wonder if you liked me better when I was savior of the galaxy. When I was this little angel in everyone’s eyes.”

“What--no!”

“I don’t feel like I deserve everything you’re giving me. You shouldn’t be worrying like this--not about me. You have college, you have friends, and i'm just more trouble--I'm just not worth it!"

I was tensing up again, trying to breathe. The thoughts were now free-flowing, and I struggled to keep it contained. "I'm not the bigger person everyone thought me to be, okay? I've done too many mistakes--I'd take it if you scream at me, scold me for how horrible or how useless I am. I'd take it if you don't talk to me after just how much I'm dumping on you. I just don't deserve this."

My voice cracked. "I'm not a hero--I'm just someone losing control. So why… why stay here?"

"You know, it doesn't matter if you're this big hero or not. Everyone loves you because you're you."

Tears started trickling down my eyes, wetting the pajamas my head was propped on. I was sniffling, sobbing, trying to control myself but finding it harder by the second. She pulled me in closer to her, my head on her shoulder, her arms tight around me.

"You're worth all the trouble. No matter what comes, I'll be here," she told me, her chin on my hair, her voice somewhat muffled but clear enough to hear. The dam broke, and I pulled her in with my arms as the tears gushed uncontrollably.

I could feel her shirt, wet with warm, salty tears, pressing against my eyes. I could feel tears trickling down my cheek. I could feel my body rest against hers, solid as a rock leaning on a pillar, but with warmth and movement. I could feel her chest rise, pushing against my tightly-bound arms. I could feel my breathing, staggered and uneven.

And I could feel a slight dampness where her chin met my hair. I could hear soft sobs from her, gentle, her voice cracking just a bit. She was crying too.

Neither of us cared what time it was – it was probably already dark outside. Nor did we care what was happening around us. _I swear I heard some footsteps up the stairs, voices I couldn't quite tune in to._

All that mattered to me, then, was that someone was with me. Whether or not I'm this _big_ thing for her. Whether or not I'm as good as I used to be.

"It'll be okay, Steven. It'll be okay."


End file.
